


Sparks?

by Miss_Webb



Series: Tattoo's and Soulmates [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Soulmates, Tattoo Artist Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 18:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11167674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Webb/pseuds/Miss_Webb





	Sparks?

“So like, what am I supposed to do?”  Stiles asked fighting a little now, he was suddenly worried what sketching tattoos involved.

“Just sit back in the chair.” Derek says and he walks over to the counter and grabs his sketchbook from his bag. He opens it up and flips through a few pages.

“Are those new?” Stiles asks as he settles into the chair, yet he gets shivers looking over to the left. That’s where he keeps the needles and ink. Bleh.

“Yeah, I did these three last night.” Derek said sitting down next to Stiles on a stool and showing them to him. The first was a picture of a wolf sitting in a field looking up to the sky. Stiles was expecting there to be a moon, but it wasn’t, there were lines drawn together in patterns.

“Fireworks?” Stiles asked.

“It does look like that. But it’s not fireworks, they’re something else. I’m not sure, I drew it when I was half asleep.” Derek said rubbing the back of his neck. He felt pressure on him. It was odd, he never really felt pressure with his drawings. He permanently put his art on people for a living, pressure of showing wasn’t something he had anymore. But now he felt embarrassed, like they might not be good enough.

“hmm,” Stiles hummed. There was something oddly familiar about it all. Yet it wasn’t a visual familiar. Like a phase he once heard, or a smell he once smelled. Something ticking in the back of his head. “Sparks?”

Derek looked up at Stiles with that. His eyebrows crinkled towards each other. “Yeah.” He smiled. “That’s what they are.” He hadn’t even known that’s what they were, but it was clear. Not really clear, not visually at least. Why would sparks be so high in the sky? There wasn’t any fire, or any other source for them, or at least why would a wolf be looking at them, but that’s what they were.

“I like it.” Stiles said with a smile, and flipped to the next sketch. It was a picture, of a fire. Something similar to a camp fire, and in the smoke above it, you could see the faint figure of a wolf. Tiny versions of the sparks in the first sketch were littered at the bottom of the fire. If you looked real close you could see they were in patterns of threes like the trisklade.

Stiles didn’t say anything about that sketch, not that he needed to. So he flipped to the next sketch.

The last one, it was more modern than anything he’s seen in any of Derek’s works. It’s a room, sorta messy, not to Stiles, but anyone else would say it was. You could see some items, clear and unfolding. There was a bed, a laptop, clothes in a corner stacked in a pile. In the middle of the room, a tree has grown out of the floor, overgrown, vines hanging down from it touching everything. Like it was contagious, it broke its way in, touching everything. Something about it gave Stiles the shivers.

“They’re good. All of them.” Stiles wanted to continue. He wanted to talk about how amazingly detailed they were. How inspiring, and enchanting. Stiles could study these for hours and not get bored. He wanted to ask how Derek was going to be able to put this on someone’s skin. Drawing on a paper is one thing, for example you have an eraser, and a steady, flat surface to write on.

Not an oily, bumpy, breathing human.

This art was so amazing; he couldn’t see how having it on human skin could only stand to demolish the amazing beauties created here.

But, like I said, Stiles had only wanted to continue. He didn’t actually.

“Thank you.” Derek was able to make sure Stiles didn’t see how happy he was at the praise. Something he got often, people coming in, saying the way he mixes colors and shades is awesome. Complements are lovely, he takes all of them to heart. But what Stiles says, that gets a special place, locked away with a key.  

“So where do you want to start?” Stiles asks.

“These are kind of large projects so, chest, side, or back. You can choose where.”

“Um, okay, chest I guess?”

“Okay,” Derek started, then took each picture and held it up to Stiles’ chest thinking for a moment. “Good, now, take off your shirt.” Derek said standing up and grabbing markers and pencils. Then he set them down and spread them out and a metallic little table beside him. It looked like something you would see doctors use in a T.V show but Stiles kept that to himself.

He was amazed by the markers and pencils. They looked different than anything he’s seen before. Not like something he’s seen in a store before. They are probably meant for skin and tattooing only.

“You don’t mind this being here for a day or two right? It’s not like permanent marker or anything, but it doesn’t usually go way on the first wash.”

“I’m fine, it’s not a big deal.” Stiles says shrugging, he’s had his experience with markers on the skin. What’s a kid to do when they are bored in class? He’s pretty sure he should ink poisoning by now.

“Okay.” He said grabbing a black marker, and testing the tip on his skin. It looked like a pen had a forbidden affair with a paintbrush. It had a soft tip, but they were tightly compact to make small detailed marks. Like a soft needle. Maybe that was the whole point.

Derek made a stripe against the back of his hand and made a content sound, he must have been testing it for something. Stiles suddenly was fascinated with this whole thing. Special pens, art, all of it. He wanted to know everything about everything. Derek made a noise clearing his throat purposefully. Stiles looked up and was met with an expecting gaze.

“What?” He asked.

“Your shirt.”

“Oh, right sorry, I forgot, hold up.” Stiles stood and begun to unbutton his shirt, but he suddenly stopped when he saw Derek was looking and turned to face the other way. Derek tried to stifle a chuckle, but Stiles still heard it. Once his shirt was off he felt self-conscious. As if he hadn’t been getting changed in front of other guys for the better part of his life. Whether it was in school locker rooms, Scott’s house, or even the pool every summer. This time shouldn’t be different.

Except for the fact that Derek kissed him.

That would make things different.

Stiles sat back in the chair and took a deep breath.

“Which one?”

“What?”

“Which picture would you like me to do?”

“Oh, well, this is for you so, dealer’s choice?”

“Never trust someone who can do permanent damage with your body.”

“Well, it’s not permanent.”

“You don’t know that. I could have lied. This could last weeks. It could be henna and stay there for a very long time. You trust to easily.” For some reason Derek actually found himself getting angry. Because when he thought about it, Stiles did trust to easily. Here he is, shirt off, in a chair, alone in a room with a man who outright kissed him before.

The fact that Stiles came back means he’s too trusting. Not to mention been working here, alone with Derek most days, doing nothing. This is serious creeper territory.

“Well, if it’s one of these three, I will gladly wear it for weeks. Besides, I have been here, with you for like two weeks. It’s not a super long time to know someone, but, I’d say you’re not the type of person to lie about that. Especially to someone whose Father is the Sheriff.” Stiles said with a small laugh.

Somehow Derek had scooted in close, and Stiles was leaning in. They were looking each other dead in the eye, as if they were talking about something more sentimental than tattoos, and trust. Derek could feel it, the pull of the bond, like to magnets pulling together.

Stiles probably couldn’t probably didn’t feel it, not as deep anyway. He didn’t understand or even know about the forces pulling them together. How they’d fit together, like a two-piece puzzle. He didn’t understand what it meant to have that kind of love, and how dim life is without it.

Stiles probably thought true love was someone getting him curly fries when he doesn’t ask, and is always down for sex. Derek wanted to spoil Stiles in all things love, he wanted to show Stiles exactly how amazing sex can be with someone who loves him. He wanted Stiles to forget that he ever thought anything less than what Derek gives him is acceptable. His wolf wanted all of that. He wanted to take it right then and there. He could smell Stiles before, but now he could see him too. He wondered if Stiles’ nipples were sensitive.

Instead of reaching out and figuring that out for himself, he leaned back and grabbed the pictures.

“Pick one.”

Stiles smiles and pulls back too. He has no idea how the bond started to from just then.

“That one.” Stiles points, it’s the picture of the wolf and the flames and sparks all around in threes. Derek smiles and sets the other two down.  

“I’ve got a feeling you are insanely ticklish.”


End file.
